


Galaxies

by Say_It_In_Enochian



Series: Between Scenes [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Destiel - Freeform, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Sweet Castiel/Dean Winchester, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29793546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Say_It_In_Enochian/pseuds/Say_It_In_Enochian
Summary: Sam and Dean bring Cas to the Pacific Northwest to hunt a Wendigo......it's not about the Wendigo!
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Between Scenes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189517
Kudos: 49





	Galaxies

**Author's Note:**

> This is a "between the scenes" fic. to fill in some subtext.

They had been coming up with nothing in the search for Kelly Kline and the ever nagging presence and demands of the British Men of Letters was wearing the brothers’ patience thin, so when Dean heard rumors of a Wendigo up north just outside of Bellingham WA, he had the trunk packed with all the gear they needed before Sam got home from his Wednesday morning trip to the farmer’s market. Sam returned home to find Dean waiting expectantly like a kid about to go on a long-awaited fishing trip. 

Cas showed up in his usual attire, earning an exaggerated sigh and eye -roll from Dean who disappeared down the hall of the bunker, joining them again a few minutes later. 

“Nobody goes camping in a suit and trenchcoat.” Dean scolded as he threw Cas a duffle bag filled with extra clothes. Cas sorted curiously through the contents as Dean commanded, “Grab something to change into and let’s go!”

Dean was packing some last-minute items in the trunk, Sam already in the front seat, when a few minutes later, Cas emerged from the bunker in ripped blue jeans, a maroon faded sweatshirt, and Dean’s old green military jacket. 

“Better?” Cas asked. 

Dean swallowed, clearing his throat and gave a wide-eyed nod. “Get in and let’s go.” 

They drove for 2 days. Non-stop, Sam and Dean taking turns and avoiding speed traps by tapping Cas’s natural ability to sense radar. 

Finally, they found a hiker’s lot in the targeted vicinity. The whole area was so remote they didn’t have to hike far from the lot to find a place in the epicenter of the reported attacks. 

Now, with most of the gear in place and the tent set up, Cas provided the evening’s entertainment as he tried to wrangle a smore, a task that Dean assured him was essential to a successful Wendigo hunt. Marshmallow and melted chocolate was dripping everywhere, sticking to everything, even Cas’s hair as he fumbled to sandwich the pieces together and taste. 

“Make me three Cas,” Dean shouted from across the clearing as he worked to hang a tarp over their tent.”

“You hate smores Dean,” Sam said quietly narrowing his eyes at him. 

“Yes I do.” Dean smirked ”...but that” he gestured to the campfire where Cas was blowing out the flaming torch of molten marshmallow while dropping chocolate and spilling graham crackers everywhere “is pure comic gold.”

“Nice,” Sam said shaking his head as he went off to gather more firewood before complete darkness set in. 

After a few more minutes of struggle, Cas presented Dean with a plate of smores, one of which was partially burnt and two of which were covered with pine needles. 

“Really Dean, I don’t see how anyone can want to eat these things.”

“Me neither,” Dean smirked as Castiel’s eyes narrowed with indignation.

“You got a little something right there,” Dean chuckled indicating a streak of chocolate on Cas’s cheek, not to mention the glob of marshmallow in his hair.

“I’m glad you find this funny Dean,” Castiel said flatly as he turned away, dumping the smores into the campfire. Clearly, Cas was not glad at all. 

“Okay - I’m sorry.” Dean smiled apologetically, his eyes meeting Cas’s look of annoyance. “There’s some wipes in that bag over there. Grab the cooler while you're at it. We’re gonna roast some meat to send out a signal to whatever’s in the area.”

The evening passed in a pretty routine way, if there’s anything routine about a hunt. Sam and Dean traded stories about past dates gone wrong, and right, and trivia about classic movies and classic rock. Cas, who had been searching the sky overhead for constellations, chimed in about the Andromeda galaxy pointing out its location, adding that it's currently on course to merge with the Milky Way, causing the stars to collide and planets to burn or hurtle into new orbits resulting in a chaotic new order. At Sam and Dean’s horrified silence he added the assurance that it wouldn’t happen for another 3.7 billion years, which to an angel was like a few centuries, but that Sam and Dean would be long dead by then, so not to worry. Dean shook his head and drank down the rest of his beer. 

Sam took that as a cue, breaking out Cards Against Humanity to play by lantern light. Cas found it crass and uncomfortable at times and shamefully hilarious at others. They kept the fire going for a while and banked it before turning in. Sam and Dean would try to get some sleep while Cas kept watch. 

At some point in the night, Dean woke to the loud call of an owl closeby. He got up to join Cas who was sitting propped up against a tree about 20 feet from the tent. 

“Did you know owls don’t have eyeballs?” Cas asked gazing up into the canopy of the forest as Dean quietly sat down next to him. 

Dean looked at Cas like he might return him to Northern Indiana State Mental Hospital. 

Cas ignored him continuing. “They have eye tubes...they’re fixed in place. That’s why their heads swivel like they do. It actually makes them excellent hunters. Perfectly engineered to spot and catch their prey.”

“Hmm” Dean considered. “Pretty neat ‘fun-fact.’ I didn’t know you knew so much about owls.” 

“I know about everything”….Cas said quietly, still gazing with a look of wonder, up into the trees, breaking off his gaze to look at Dean “well, the natural things of this world anyway...not like smores.” he smiled, and Dean smiled back knowing he was forgiven. 

Dean watched as Cas returned his gaze to the trees, presumably looking for the owl in question. Listening, guarding, his head cocking occasionally to consider a new sound or rustle and assess any threat. Dean stole a glance at Cas, the moonlight casting a pale glow on his face, sharpening his features. His blue eyes glinting as they caught the light. Here in the moonlight Cas looked to Dean like an ancient marble statue come to life. The graceful features and full lips of a Greek god. 

Cas turned to Dean catching his gaze with a questioning look.

Dean swallowed nervously. He didn’t want to be caught-out staring, but try as he might he couldn’t break away from Cas’s gaze. He didn’t want to. Dean found himself suddenly falling deeper into his eyes. His pulse quickening as he felt butterflies doing a number on his stomach.

“Cas..” Dean started… but then... Dean found he couldn’t bring himself to say what he wanted to. It had been weeks since the Lance of Michael had nearly killed Castiel. Weeks since the night they spent in Cas’s bed, Dean both comforting and needing comfort. Since then Dean had tried acting like it hadn’t happened. Avoided being alone with Cas and hating himself because of it, because deep down he knew that hearts were at stake, and none of it was fair to Cas. 

Dean’s fucking human weakness. Dean could do a lot of things, but feelings? It was bad enough to find yourself grappling with emotions, but talking about it? That was just another hellscape he only ventured into in the direst of circumstances and only with Sammy. He learned before he was five that his father wasn’t interested in what he felt. Dean’s feelings were a liability that John Winchester couldn’t afford. Dealing with that was a mother’s job and that ship had sailed. 

“Boy’s don’t cry Dean. We man up!” John had said to a five-year-old Dean as he cried in the bed at night for his dead mother. It had been 7 months since Mary’s death and John figured that was time enough. John had done enough comforting and every time Dean cried it was a reminder of his failure to protect them, spurring a surge of defensive anger that set a pattern for the next 15 years of his parenting.

“Crying won’t bring her back, but hunting will bring her justice Dean.” His voice was harsh, the patience worn from it. “Hunter’s need to be strong.” By strong John meant stoic. The boy had to toughen up or he wouldn’t survive. From now on, Dean would learn to jettison those emotions if John had to beat them out of him. 

Dean learned the lesson well through trial and error with his father over the years. With one exception. Sammy. Somehow, even though Dean looked at his father like a god, in some corner of his heart, even as a child he realized that this was a messed up way to live. When John was gone, Dean protected Sammy. Held him when he cried. Never made him stuff away his hurts. He was mother and father to Sam, and Sammy had turned out pretty good despite John, because of Dean. 

Dean knew in his heart he was fucked up. Knew logically that John was wrong, and that a measure of a man isn’t how much emotion you can choke out of yourself. He knew he should be more like Sam. In fact, ironically Sam was now the model of who Dean wished he could be. But he couldn’t shake John’s voice in his head. The feeling of his father’s rejection and revulsion that sometimes showed itself at the end of a belt. 

And then there was THIS, Dean thought as his eyes fixed on Cas…..John would NEVER understand this. Never be able to look Dean in the eye. Womanizing, yes. A way to blow off steam, sow your wild oats, prove your manhood. Finding a woman to settle down...maybe, if it didn’t interfere with hunting. But this? Even a glance too long in the “wrong” direction as teen had earned Dean a hard look of disgust and warning from John. 

Dean had never “pretended” with women. He remembered being attracted to girls as early as middle school. Boys were never an option young Dean could consider. One rare summer when the Winchester’s stayed in Red Wing MN for almost 2 months he made a friend for the first time in a long time. They were both 15, liked the same music, and cars. Will introduced Dean to Vonnegut and they bonded over the existential implications of Cat’s Cradle. The closer he got to Will, the more he wanted to know. John’s face began to harden in the evenings as Dean, plating up dinner for Sammy and John recounted the day’s activities and the boy’s name came up over and over. 

“Pack your stuff. We’re leaving Friday.” John announced abruptly one Wednesday that August. Dean’s heart broke with the words. The next day he went to the lake, where he usually met Will to say goodbye. Dean was ashamed of the way he choked on the words as he told his friend he'd be leaving. Ashamed of the way his eyes burned with the effort of keeping tears at bay. He wasn’t a cry baby. He had done this, picked up and left, all his life. Why was it different now? Dean handed back the Vonnegut, but Will shook his head. 

“Keep it,” he said, his eyes on the ground.

When Will looked up Dean noticed his eyes red-rimmed too. Will put a hand on Dean’s shoulder then pulled him in. Dean held on, they both did, for longer than he’d ever hugged his father, or even Sam, or anyone for that matter, unable to hold back the sadness. It could have just been that Dean had never known what it was to have a friend before, but sometimes, Dean thought it might have been little more than that as well.

It was only when the Winchester’s reached their new town that Dean realized his father was leaving them in Grand Rapids with another hunter. John himself was going back to work in the same area they had spent the summer in. The move it turned out, was about Dean’s choice of associations, rather than any new lead on the yellow-eyed demon. “Keep yourself on the straight and narrow Dean.” John said in warning as he left. 

All his life he was devoted to his father. The good son, sacrificing everything of himself to follow orders, trying to measure up, desperate for the brief sunlight of John’s love or praise. Penitent when he failed or whenever John looked on him with displeasure. John was like God to him, even as he taught Dean there was no such thing.

But now, Jesus, he was too old to have “Daddy Issues.” Dean would give anything to exorcise his father’s voice, his judgments, his condemnations from his head but somehow he couldn’t. Panic was setting in....and even though Dean knew better, he briefly wondered if this is what it’s like to be possessed. 

“Dean?” Cas's voice broke through his avalanche of thoughts as he looked at him expectantly, and Dean was brought back to the moment….to Cas...here in the moonlight... with the look of forbidden fruit. 

Dean looked down, swallowed, and started again - change of topic - smores - ”Cas...when Sammy and I tease you, or play a joke on you, it’s not because we don’t appreciate you, you do know that right? It’s just what brothers do.” 

A small smile broke on Cas’s face. “I know Dean.” Cas's smile turned to concern. “What’s _really_ wrong,” he asked. 

Dean forced himself to breathe deep to slow his breath and look away. “I’m fine Cas. Just couldn’t sleep.”

Cas looked resigned. He could tell when Dean was avoiding something and there was no use digging. Cas returned his gaze to the trees and stars above the clearing. “You can go rest Dean,” he offered after it seemed like Dean had said his piece. “You know I don’t get tired and I’ll make sure to wake you and Sam if there’s danger.”

Dean looked back at Cas, taking one more steady breath of the night air to slow the pounding in his chest. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to sit out here with you awhile. Just to keep you company.” Dean countered.

“I’d like that.” Cas smiled. Dean moved to sit with his back against the ancient tree trunk next to Cas. 

They sat silent as a rustling sound caught their attention. Dean made ready to jump up but Cas stopped him with a hand on his arm, shushing him gently and shaking his head “no.” 

“Just watch Dean…” Cas whispered. “Relax...There's no Wendigo here tonight.”

Dean settled back, Cas's hand still on his arm as his other hand pointed to the other side of the small clearing where a stag emerged from the treeline. “Look,” Cas whispered.

The stag approached within 15 feet of Cas and Dean. In the moonlight, Dean tried to count. 16 Points. A Monarch, and he looked every bit a prince of the forest. The stag considered them, looking right at Cas as if communicating. Dean had never seen one so big, so close. It was almost spiritual. 

“Aren’t you a beauty?” Dean thought as the animal met his eyes. Then suddenly the spell was broken and the stag broke its gaze and bolted off into the trees again. 

Dean realized he had been holding his breath and as he released it he leaned back onto Castiel’s shoulder chuckling. “That must be your patronus Cas.” Dean teased.

“My what?” Cas started...and then “Oh...the orphan wizard movie we watched…..Well I could cast myself into the glowing form of an animal, but to look on it would burn your eyes out.” he mused.

Dean laughed. Still leaning on Cas, he reached down and took Cas’s hand in his. He felt Castiel stiffen briefly and wondered if he had made a mistake. Closing his eyes, afraid to move, he asked tentatively “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Cas whispered. He brought his arm around Dean and smoothed his hair as Dean rested on his shoulder.…"is this?”

“Yes.” Dean said relieved, relaxing against Cas...closing his eyes and summoning the courage to nuzzle closer….breathing into the hollow under Castiel’s chin. Castiel smelt of smoke and cedar.

Cas pulled a blanket over them to keep Dean warm and relished the soft feel of Dean’s body melting into his. Dean didn’t dare move, lest he ruin it. This was farther than he thought he could ever come again with Cas after that night in the bunker. Lulled by the feel of Cas’s fingers gently moving in his hair, Dean eventually drifted off to sleep in Cas’s arms.

Sometime in the hours before sunrise Dean woke. It was still dark but the sky was lightening. Laying with his head still against the angel’s chest, he could hear the steady beating of Cas’s heart. Dean’s mind was clear. He suddenly felt bolder, as if all of the baggage in his head from the night before had washed out with a morning tide.

“Cas? You awake?” Dean whispered.

“I’m awake Dean,” Cas whispered back, his lips against the top of Dean’s head, “You know I don’t sleep.”

Dean rose to his knees with an urgency...desperate to give back to Cas what he sensed from the angel before his internal demons woke to spoil it. Moving to face Cas, straddling one leg and taking Cas’s face in his hands, eyes locked with his. Cas lips parted as if to question, in his eyes a look of nervous surprise.

It had been hours since Dean had a drink but he felt drunk with need, breathless and reckless. Eyes closed, he leaned in to rest his forehead on Cas’s. Dean could feel the quickening in Cas’s breath as he entwined one hand in Cas’s hair and rested the other on his chest to feel its rise and fall, as if to assure himself that Cas was real. Quickly, before his own thoughts could ruin it he asked “Can I kiss you Cas?”

Dean felt Cas nod his head against his own. “Yes, Dean” he whispered, lips ghosting over Dean’s own. 

Dean tilted and kissed Cas on the forehead...then his cheek, just below his eye, drawing a sigh from him. He gently traced soft kisses downward and over, until he felt Cas’s soft full lips on his. 

Cas had tried up to this point to be careful, knowing parts of Dean’s soul better than Dean knew it himself...knowing Dean had demons of his own making, Castiel had allowed Dean to take the lead. Now, as Dean’s mouth brushed his, he reached to touch Dean’s face with his hands, fingers gently brushing stubble. 

Dean sucked playfully on Cas’s top lip, grazing gently with his teeth...laving it…. his tongue timidly seeking. Cas’s lips opened ever so slightly in invitation. Like shy virgins, the tips of their tongues teasing against one another until it drove Cas near mad with desire. “Dean..”.he moaned softly against his lips...and then Dean opened fully….Castiel free to worship Dean with the kisses of his mouth.

After a moment Dean gasped, breaking away from Cas’s lips, drawing a breathless moan from Cas as Dean rolled his hips against him. “So have you ever seen two galaxies collide Cas?” 

Cas’s nodded...momentarily confused.

“What’s it like?” Dean breathed the question into Cas’s ear...toying with his teeth at Cas’s earlobe…tracing kisses down his neck.

“They’re pulled together by the force of each other’s gravity.” Cas said..his breath catching as Dean’s hands explored bare skin beneath Cas’s shirt...mapping the curve of soft skin over hard muscle. “When they merge... you can witness the birth of a thousand new stars..” Cas continued breathless. 

Cas pulled Dean’s face up to his own to kiss his lips again…”There's destruction...but also creation…” 

Cas brought his hands down to grip Dean’s ass suddenly, pulling him in closer until Dean could feel Cas’s own need...hard through his jeans. Dean moaned into Castiel’s mouth…

“The two become one....” Cas continued now nuzzling and kissing into Dean’s neck...working him into a torment… "something new...more than the sum of their parts,” he gasped as Dean rolled his hips into him again. “Dean….You’re not really asking about galaxies are you?” 

“Cas..I..” A sound from the tent made Dean break off quickly, nearly jumping to his feet as he heard Sam shuffling around in the tent.  
  


“Fuck!” Dean muttered to himself, rubbing his face with his hands...trying to gain control over himself. The sun was rising.

“Dean? Cas?” Sam called out.

“Yeah!” Dean yelled back standing now - looking back to Cas. His eyes locked for a moment with Cas’s and Dean nodded slightly as if to say “We’re good."

Cas looked back at him with intense but unsure eyes, shaken from the force of what just happened...still breathless. 

“What are you doing up so early?” Sam asked suspiciously emerging from the tent to stretch. His brother never passed up a chance to sleep in if he wasn’t on watch himself. 

“Couldn’t sleep so I kept Cas company,” Dean said gruffly. “Just about to get the fire going for coffee and bacon. Enjoy my jovial demeanor now because I’m gonna be a real bitch later when exhaustion sets in.”

Dean went off with the excuse of getting some water from a spring they passed on the way in. 

Cas stood up to stretch out his limbs.

“Morning Cas,” Sam said.

“Hey Sam,...umm, how did you sleep?” Cas asked a little too enthusiastically.

Sam’s eyes narrowed a little. Never one for a good poker face, Cas looked like a deer in headlights. “Good…...thanks for keeping watch.” Whatever was going on, Sam decided to employ studied non-observance for now. 

The remnants of fire had died in the night and Sam quickly made up the kindling to relight it. Cas offered to gather more tinder and went off in the opposite direction that Dean had gone.

Sam sighed, rolled his eyes, and muttered “Worst kept secret ever.”

After Dean and Cas returned the three worked to get the fire going and food on. Dean’s main concern was getting the percolator heated for coffee.

“So no Wendigo…. Pack it up? Or try one more night?” Sam asked as they sat around the fire with their hot beverages. 

“I think we do a little scouting today,” Dean suggested, “maybe try to leave some breadcrumbs. Besides, I brought our fishing poles.”

By breadcrumbs they knew he meant making their presence known. It was decided they would scout the area, head down to the stream, and spend some time fishing. If they caught something, edible or not, Dean thought another night of cooking meat over the fire would be too much of an invitation for any Wendigo for miles to miss. Only humans cook their food, and Wendigos only hunt humans. 

The fish weren’t biting.

Dean complained that they got too late a start because of Sam. Then he got the lines tangled and complained that Cas was crowding his space. By around one o’clock it was clear to everyone that Dean’s fatigue had set in and mood had soured. Sam ordered him back to camp to catch some sleep so he would be sharp as the sun set. As Dean and Sam packed their gear Castiel saved the dinner plans by wading into the thigh-deep water, reaching down, and grabbing 3 trout in succession from the stream with his hands, tossing them up to Sam on the shore. 

‘Show off” Dean muttered. Castiel cracked a mischievous smile in return. 

The Wendigo finally attacked around dusk. The boys were ready and made short shrift of it. After all the complicated predicaments that had lately twisted their lives, this had been a proverbial cakewalk. Dean almost felt sorry for the bastard.

Honestly Sam felt that most of the work of the job was the unpacking and repacking of the camp site. None-the-less, rather than sleep another night on the hard ground in a place that now reeked of burnt Wendigo they figured if they worked together they could pack up camp quickly and find a place on the road to stay. 

It was only about 10 by the time they had packed everything up and checked into the Evergreen Motel off Route 5.


End file.
